


Hell is... Well... Like Hell

by demon_in_a_shoeboxx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Demons, Demons Are Assholes, Don't Have To Know About Supernatural (TV), Don't Like Don't Read, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Gore, Hell, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, If Supernatural (TV) Were on HBO, Knives, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Beta Read, POV First Person, POV Outsider, Sorry Not Sorry, Torture, Weird Plot Shit, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-28 15:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demon_in_a_shoeboxx/pseuds/demon_in_a_shoeboxx
Summary: The show does depict Hell but I wanted to expand on that. So here's some drabbles or one shots or whatever. Yeah.As I write the tags and warning will change. I will put trigger warnings in the summery of each chapter though.
Kudos: 2





	1. Torture is Torture

**Author's Note:**

> This is me trying my hand at a regular torture scene from the torturers perspective. Nothing crazy besides blood and such.

Just another soul on the rack. I didn't care who it was as long as they screamed. 

And in all demonic honesty the screams weren't even the best part. Sure at first I didn't like them while _I_ was on the rack but I've learned to appreciate them. Now I just think of them as a bonus. A little umphf to my regular routine.

And what a routine.

It starts with the calming lull of watching blood seep and grow with each knife stroke. The tools I use are worn with time. How long I don't know. But they're never dull. Unless I want them to be.

The souls only bleed due to an illusion. It helps those who were once human process the pain. I didn't really know the specifics but they don't really matter to me, do they?

I think this souls a man.

Starting at his feet I slowly brush my knife along his legs. Making shallow cuts that can be aggravated by the acidic air.

He gasps at the pain. He's visibly trying to keep his screams on the inside.

Foolish choice. 

I return to his feet. This time dragging a dull knife up his leg. Letting the skin tear in jagged strips. The red blood leaks down his leg like wine.

I kinda miss wine.


	2. Beautiful Eyes, Black Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my girl is messing with a souls eye and arms. we also see the soul reach the breaking point and become a demon. 
> 
> blood, body gore/horror, torture, mind break (but not in explicitly). the tortured is non gender specific

New soul on the rack. After the last one my knives needed to be sharpened. Funny thing that is. The knives we have down here. They change all the time yet are always sharp. Now that I'm thinking about it, I've never sharpened a knife outside of a torture session. I wonder who does.

Huh.

But never mind that. I've got a job to do.

Raking my eyes across my tools I contemplate my options. I don't want to use my knives because they were just used. Beating a soul's flesh until it breaks sounds nice until I find a wooden box. It looks old. The corners have been smoothed over with time and the planks themselves have started to warp. There's a rusty iron latch holding the lid and box together. I open it with curiosity, another human feature that hasn't burned up. Inside are various metal tools. I think they look medical in nature but I really wouldn't know. 

My job isn't to heal, it's to break.

Pouring the contents of the metal box onto my table, I'm finally able to turn to the soul in front of me.

It's not a new soul. I can see the crakes and ash disforming it. Making it into what I am. But it's not quite there yet. It needs a push.

And what better tool to use than made to heal?

I pick up the box and my other needed items. I can tell this is going to be fun. For me at least.

I walk over to the soul. It's trapped in a chair. Chains wrapping around their arms, legs, and torso. I jabbed a needle full of adrenalin into their arm. I want them to be awake. Pulling out the needle I use the plyers to open the incision, watching carefully as the skin tears. I know if I look closely I can see the fibers of the skin breaking.

The wound isn't deep enough to draw blood. Which I think is a skill in itself. Like... anyone can rip but to give pain without blood? Talent if I do say so myself.

The souls gasping. I want more.

I dig through the box again. This time pulling out a thin scalpel with a wooden handle. I make more clean cuts into their arm but only to the skin. I didn't touch the muscle. Not yet. Using the scalpel, I peel back the skin on the arm. Blood begins to pool while the tissue that isn't bleeding is being aggravated by the acidic air. The soul really stars screaming now. The chains strain against the thrashing and the chair raddles.

Now I can start on the muscle. Not bothering to clean the scalpel, I cut a smallish cube of the arm muscle. 

More screams.

This is where the lull of my job comes in. The repeat of cutting and cubing of the arm muscle is satisfying much like farming. I'm pretty sure I farmed once a time. I guess I don't remember. Maybe I could if I tried.

By the time I'm out of the thoughts the souls arms are both gutted. The floor littered with small chunks of muscle and flesh. The arms themselves are hollowed out except for the bone and some veins. The skin that remains hangs loosely. 

I pull the rest of the skin off. The soul screams some more. It's voice is now deep and ragged. The screaming has shredded their vocal box.

I drop my tools. Turning to the box I pick up a odd piece of metal. It looked like a plyer but it wasn't. 

I want to use it.

Straddling the soul I tilt their head to the side to gain better access. 

The eyelid is such a delicate thing. Just a small piece of skin can envelope a being in the dark.

I rip it off. 

Everything down here is "dark" or scary. A demon should see everything.

As I scoop and cut the soul darkens. The crakes become less like fissures and more like valleys. The soul is now covered in soot. The blood from it's head mixing with the ash to create a black ink. I let the ink cover me and the soul as a finish the process. 

Nothing will ever feel as great. Nothing will ever give me such a rush of power and contentment. 

I look at their face,

Black eyes stare back.

I unchain the new demon.

"Welcome formally to hell."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! Comments and kudos are very appreciated!💛💛


End file.
